THE OBSERVATION BOOTH
OP / ED & PHOTOS COURTESY BY ANDREA DIALECT
TRAVEL LOG
Yesterday, I took full advantage of the Labor Day holiday. I binged on snacks at its arrival and well past 12:00 am, slept late, and made the most of New Jersey’s Fare Holiday by hopping on buses and trains on a whim. Flagging those buses down just added to my feeling of being at a financial advantage, which I think I’ve come to like. Come with me, if you wish, as I revisit my adventure...
BROOKLYN (WEST INDIAN DAY FESTIVAL)
Patricia Roberts’ “Drink Water and Mind My Business” was the tune I’d been humming all day. Mostly just that hook because, well, that’s basically all I know.
I was introduced to this Soca song by one of my muses, Diana the Dragon, during one of her dance routines. Yesterday (Sept. 2) was also the very first time I traveled to New York City alone. Before going, I had solicited the help of a few people. Each suggested I use Google Maps, but I wanted to have it written down just in case my phone failed me – as it did as soon as I entered the train. I couldn’t connect to the internet. Penn Station, the Brooklyn Museum, and West Indian Parade were the keywords I used when soliciting help.
The first people I met that day were three aspiring photographers and models. I hung out with them for a bit, then made my way to a seat, and that’s how I met Thomas, an Evangelist who wore a particular hat that I loved. We chatted the whole way, and after reaching Penn Station, we stood dead center in the space and had a prayer. After leaving Thomas, that’s when my feeling of being lost began.
Soon after soliciting help from a few others who couldn’t point me in the right direction, I stumbled upon a very interesting character. When introducing himself, he asked if I wanted to know his government name or what the street called him. I told him to choose, and he chose his street name, which happens to be a part of the body. Nothing vulgar, but if I were to repeat it, it would expose who he was when what he’d done was more important.
His explanation was more than overwhelming, as noted by my looking like a lost, wide-eyed child. He positioned my hand on his shoulder and led the way – a dealer for over twenty years, who was working at the moment. Obviously, he had broken the rules and used some of his own supply. I don’t know how he could lead me with those eyes open shut.
When we reached the number 2 gate, I had cash, which meant that now he was standing with me in line – a long line – to help me with the ticket machine. That father of two escorted me up to the turnstile, but when I looked back after going through, he had swiped the MetroCard for me, of course. He was gone. I didn’t see him anywhere as I scanned the space. So I moved on.
When I reached the platform, that’s when I met my guardian angel number two. She walked with me to the left side of the platform, and as we waited, she stepped into that mother role the entire trip on the 2 train.
Then I met guardian angel number three. Perhaps to the both of them, I looked like a basket case lol. He showed us as he pointed the way, even when the doors closed before he faded. Then my new mom escorted me down Eastern Parkway. She chastened me the whole time because I insisted that we get off where my mentor had suggested before leaving. She did, but we could have ridden to the next stop, which meant less walking.
Although I enjoyed it all, as snapping photos. She stopped as I stopped. Eventually, we were separated by my spontaneous halts, and I lost her.
Then the fun began. I decided that I would immerse myself in the moment. My street photography, aka walk-bys, are random shots that I snap as I walk, and the others are more up-close and personable.
I met some very interesting, beautiful, and intelligent people yesterday. Toward the end, I ran into a group of five and spent the rest of the evening chit-chatting with them. They also became my next angels as they pointed the way towards home. That time, I had five mothers, and then I stumbled into another guy whom I spoke with briefly. I really enjoyed my solo travel yesterday. I felt like a big girl as I walked into the subway this time.
When I exited the number 2, I was able to find my way to NJ Transit all by myself by following the signs. Who would have thought lol. Surprisingly, when I got there, once again, I found myself surrounded by a sea of people once again. This time, mocha wasn’t the only hue that painted space, but a variety of people of all walks and ethnicities who, like myself, wanted to make it to the carriage before the clock struck 12 and those ticket takers, who look nothing like Cinderella, punched holes while snatching tickets.
Surely this is the beginning of my solo excursions. There are three things that I learned at the festival yesterday: Number one, go with the flow of the crowd, never against it. Number two, when you’re in a sea of people, always try to stroll in front of a woman and not those gods of men. I woke up this morning debating whether or not I should go to confession.
And lastly, stick to the rules next time and really drink water and mind my business. Meaning, in no uncertain terms, do you move your hips to that song in your head or the ones pumping out of those speakers. Lest you find yourself being smashed from behind – not by the group, but by a suitor of one or two.
It took two times for me to learn that one. The rest of the day, I spent walking like a mannequin, but I had a blast.
DID YOU KNOW…
I was totally unaware of this tragedy. “Shooting leaves one dead at historically bloody West Indian Day Festival Parade in NYC” …. This was the heading for the New York Times which I think is despicable. One thing for certain had been omitted and forgotten. This is bloody America. Go figure!
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